


Mundanity

by GoddessOfShitpost



Category: We Need to Talk About Kevin - All Media Types
Genre: Angst?, Fucked Up, Gen, Male/Female Reader - Freeform, and are gender neutral, for yall who like mass murderers, no love, pure obsession only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfShitpost/pseuds/GoddessOfShitpost
Summary: No.It wasn't an infatuation.It was an obsession.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Listen to #1 Crush by Garbage while reading this. Trust me.]

"Katchadourian!" Your professor yelled, in his usual pristine attire and doing his usual class roll call. The usual light seeping from the white curtains onto your usual plastic desk. You were so _sick_ of usual.

"Present." A voice said beside you.

But he wasn't usual. It was the same old answer since he came to the school but always a different voice, a different tone. He wasn't like anyone. Like anything. And it fascinated you. 

He had an aura around him. It wasn't normal. Everyone repels him, is scared of him. But everyone loves normal, and you saw normal every damn day. Normal is boring. You would do anything than to be boring. And that included infatuation for the mysterious, abnormal, unacceptable man beside you.

No.

It wasn't an infatuation.

It was an obsession.

You knew what dangerous was, probably better than anyone in class, and he was not something you called safe. Unstable, unusual, borderline psychotic. But he wasn't a bad boy, wasn't "misunderstood". Because everyone saw it. He wasn't like them. But you know better. He is insane.

Bad stimuli is better than no stimuli at all. Danger is better than mundane.

So when he locked you with some other students in that gym, and while he was aiming at you, you smiled. You expected him to drop his bow, to be caught off guard. But he smiled back.

Always unexpected.

You felt the arrow in your chest, and the warmth of the blood that was dripping onto your abdomen. So much blood, it seems he had aimed well. The panicked screams of your classmates muted, replaced by a loud ringing. You walked over to him, still smiling, fueled only by adrenaline. He was aiming at someone else, his back was turned from you. You grabbed the metal arrow out of your chest, knees wobbling from the pain. Blood gushed everywhere, the sound of it spurting was disgusting but oddly calming. While he was still aiming at someone else, you swung with all the life that was left in you. He fell. You had struck him with enough force to make the arrow go through the other side. He looked up at you. For the first time, he was surprised. But then he grinned. You had aimed well too. You followed, and as you hit the ground you felt your heartbeat start to cease. The blood that clung to you trickled down to your socks. You looked at him, his stare was empty as he looked up into the usual high gym ceilings.

But none of this was usual. He was a madman. You obsessed over the madman.

And with your last breath, you grabbed his hand. Just to surprise him one more time.


End file.
